


Of Dragons and Dwarves (and Gold)

by bookstorequeer



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragons, Dwarves, Gen, Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, treasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstorequeer/pseuds/bookstorequeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Smaug longed for was somewhere safe to finally sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Dragons and Dwarves (and Gold)

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on my lj.](http://bookstorequeer.livejournal.com/109584.html)

**Pairing:**  none  
 **Spoilers:**  mild, pre-movie/history stuff  
 **Warnings:**  None. References to some dragon fire and vague violence/injury.

 

  
He’d known of the dwarf city, been aware of the gold under the mountain for quite some time. It had never mattered, not until his body was aching from skirmishes with the mountain dwarves of the West. His eyes were burning for rest because of the dwarves had hounded him, their arrows threatening to shred his wings and ground him. All Smaug longed for was somewhere safe to finally sleep.

The great dragon’s flight was turbulent at best as he came across the Misty Mountains. Even his claws ached and Smaug almost wished there was a back-entrance to the dwarven kingdom, so that he could sneak a rest on their gold and move on before they found him. He and his kin slept best on bullion and gems, something about the metal lending strength to their scales and sharpness to their teeth. The western dwarves had taken his own treasure, so Smaug thought it fitting to find his sleep on another dwarf’s hoard.

As he soared across the great river, the thick scent of dwarven flesh sent an unfamiliar ripple of fear through Smaug, with anger hot on its tail. He hadn’t been afraid since he’d been an egglet and it wasn’t a feeling he remembered fondly. It was embarrassing to feel so weak and before he could stop it, Smaug’s great fire burst forth, smothering the stone buildings and colourful, plentiful pennants of Dale. He dimly heard the screams of the creatures below him but Smaug himself was more concerned with finding a nest of precious metals to rest in, and a wall to keep at his back; he had little desire to kill more dwarves, so long as they left him well enough alone.

He had heard snatches and whispers of the great king Thrór’s hoard under the mountain, and, if rumours of dwarvish defenses weren’t untrue, then Erebor was just the haven he longed for. It sounded like the perfect hole to hide in.

Landing with a jolt and a stumble, Smaug tried to keep speed and surprise on his side, since his fired-up entrance had destroyed any chance for stealth. He had to move quickly but with caution; the dragon did not know the tactics of Erebor dwarves and that distressed him. These were not the same dwarves who had ambushed him as he returned from gorging in preparation for his upcoming period of growth and slumber, those who he had spent the last week fighting and fleeing in turns.

Smaug smashed open the main door with the foreleg that wasn’t on the edge of broken from his crash in the mountains, and slid inside. With the door open, he could smell the rich, smooth scent of the gold and it blinded him to the dwarves holding pikes before him. The dragon was too focused on the hoard, too trapped in the instincts demanding that he bury himself in the treasure until his body had finished this latest phase of recovery and growth –as befitted his advancing age; he barely heard the screams and shouts as his fire buffeted the dwarves and scorched the walls.

Slowly Smaug became aware of the silence as the reverberations of the great door slamming died away. He sighed, a gust of air that caused an avalanche of gold, and slithered further beneath the great pile of precious jewels and metals. His back was safely to a wall, the thick stench of dwarf was fading ever so slightly, and the shimmer of minerals was already lessening the aches in tired, torn muscles. With the great hall of Erebor under the mountain finally quiet, Smaug drew his tail across his nose and shuddered once as his body finally relaxed and uncoiled from its terrified state.

Wrapped in gold, the great dragon fell into a slumber that would last for sixty years, until a thrush knocked on the stone wall of his haven and Smaug awoke, feet longer and stronger, never knowing as he lay in a quiet doze, that he was waiting for a single, solitary Hobbit. Whatever a Hobbit was.

**Author's Note:**

> My idea was to write something from Smaug's point of view. Why did he come to Erebor? Why sleep under the mountain?


End file.
